the ravages of the white ants. The Botanic Garden, which is on the opposite bank of the Hoogly, three or four miles below the city, is a beautiful spot, and contains an unusually rich collection of the trees and plants of the Tropics. The banyan tree, with its 110 trunks, is considered a great lion, but I had seen specimens of more than double the size in the valley of the Nerbudda. Among the ornamental plants, I was most struck with the Amherstia nobilis, a native of Burmah, with glossy green foliage, and long, pendant spikes of scarlet flowers; the Bougainvillia spectabilis, one broad sheet of purple bloom; and the Poinsettia, whose sky-blue clusters, ten to fifteen feet in length, hung like streamers from the trees on which it leaned.

From half-an-hour before, until an hour after sunset, Calcutta is to be seen in its greatest glory. Then, all who can procure an equipage drive on the esplanade, an open space of three or four miles in length by nearly a mile in breadth, extending along the banks of the Hoogly, from the Government Palace to Fort William, and still farther, to the country suburb of Garden Reach. All the splendour of Chowringhee Road fronts on this magnificent promenade, and I forgave the pride of the Calcuttanese in their city, when I joined the brilliant stream of life in the main drive on the banks of the river, watching hundreds of lordly equipages passing and repassing, while on the other hand, the three miles of stately residences-palaces, if you insist upon it-shone rosybright in the face of the setting sun. The Parsee, the Hindoo, and the Mussulman mingled in the ranks of the fair Englishmen, and reclined in their carriages, or drove their mettled Arabs with as much spirit as the best of their conquerors. Their Cashmere shawls, their silks and jewels, and the gay Oriental liveries of the syces and footmen, gave the display an air of pomp and magnificence which threw Hyde Park and the Champs Elysées into the shade. The fine band from Fort William, playing lively airs on the green, gave the crowning charm to the hour and the scene. The languor of the Indian day was forgotten, and the rich, sensuous life of the East flashed into sudden and startling vividness. I shall try to retain the impression of these sunset views of Calcutta, for they belong to that class of memories which are but enriched by time.

Here, on the eve of my departure from India, is a fitting occasion to say a few words on the character and the results of the English rule. The Government of the East India Company presents an anomaly to which there is no parallel in history. It is a system so complicated and involved, embracing so many heterogeneous elements, and so difficult to grasp, as a whole, that the ignorance manifested even in the English Parliament, with regard to its operations, is scarcely to be wondered at. From the rapidity of my progress through the country, and the disconnected

and imperfect nature of my observations, I feel some reluctance in venturing upon the subject, and the reader must be contented to receive a few general impressions, instead of a critical dissection of the system, which, indeed, would occupy too much space, even if I were competent to undertake it.

My previous notions of English rule in India were obtained chiefly from the articles on the subject in the progressive newspapers of England, and were, I need hardly say, unfavourable. The American press is still more unsparing in its denunciations, though very few of the writers have any definite idea of the nature of the wrongs over which they grow so indignant. That there are wrongs and abuses which call for severe reprehension, is undeniable; but I have seen enough to satisfy me that, in spite of oppression, in some instances of the most grinding character, in spite of that spirit of selfish aggrandisement which first set on foot, and is still prosecuting, the subjugation of India, the country has prospered under English Government. So far from regretting the progress of annexation, which has been so rapid of late years (and who are we, that we should cast a stone against this sin?), I shall consider it a fortunate thing for India, when the title of native sovereign is extinguished, and the power of England stretches, in unbroken integrity, from Cashmere to Cape Comorin. Having made this admission, I shall briefly refer to some of the most prominent evils and benefits of the system.

every

The relation of the Government to the labouring millions of India is one that has been frequently condemned. It was inherited from the former rulers, but has since undergone considerable modification, and not, I am sorry to say, always for the better. It is substantially that of landlord and tenant, the Government holding all the land as its own property, and leasing it to the inhabitants according to a certain form of assessment. In some instances it is leased directly to the labourers; in others to zemindars, or contractors on a large scale, who sub-let it to the former at an advanced rate, and practise tyrannical extortions upon them, in order to increase their own profits.

In Bengal and Madras the condition of the labouring population s most unfavourable, on account of the peculiar land systems which have been adopted in those presidencies. In Madras, where what is called the Ryotwar system is in force, a general assessment of all produce and property is made every year, and the rents fluctuate according to this standard, within the limits of a maximum rate, fixed by Government. But in order to carry out this system, the assistance of a large number of petty native officials is required, and the abuses which are perpetrated under it are said to be absolutely monstrous. In the North-west provinces, where an assessment is only made every thirty years, and the occupation and cultivation of a tract of land constitutes a sort of claim to

the renewal of the lease, the country is in a much more flourishing state. The soil is under excellent cultivation, and the inhabitants are thrifty and contented. Despotic as the Company's government certainly is, it is a well-regulated despotism, and its quiet and steady sway is far preferable to the capricious tyranny of the

native rulers.

It speaks well for the Government that its military service is popular among the natives. There is no conscription, the Sepoy regiments being raised entirely by voluntary enlistment, and could be increased to any extent, if desired. The military force amounts to about 250,000-larger, one would suppose, than is actually needed, since it entails a great expense upon the country. The men are well fed and clothed, and receive a liberal pay. They make excellent soldiers, and when placed on the flanks of a European battalion, march to battle as bravely as any in the world. For discipline, drill, and soldierly appearance, some of the regiments would be noted anywhere.

The land revenue is of course the main source of supply to the Government, but there are some other taxes which are almost as severely felt by the population. The manufacture of opium is a Government monopoly, which yields a nett annual revenue of £3,000,000. The duty on salt is enormous, and as this is an article of universal consumption, is very severely felt. It amounts in some parts of the country to two rupees (48.) the maund, while in the territories of native princes the article may be bought for six annas the maund. The internal customs which formerly existed have been abolished, and a gradual amelioration of the burdens under which the native population has been weighed down, seems to be taking place. Though very slow to expend any money in public works, the Government still moves forward in this direction and lately, by guaranteeing to the holders of stock in the India Railroad Companies five per cent. for twenty years, gave a powerful impetus to an undertaking which will in time change the whole aspect of the country. The Grand Trunk Road, extending from Calcutta to Delhi, a distance of 900 miles, and now being carried on to Lahore, is one of the finest highways in the world. The Ganges Canal, which will cost £2,000,000 when finished, will cover with perpetual harvests the great peninsular plain between the Ganges and Jumna, and render famine impossible in the north of India. There is scarcely a large city in the Company's dominions without its schools, its colleges, and its hospitals, supported mainly by Government bounty.

The moral changes which have been wrought within the last hundred years, or since the battle of Plassy laid the true foundation of the present vast commercial appanage, are even greater than the physical. The Civil Service, though liable to objection, from the favouritism practised in the appointment of its officers,

still secures to the native a more just and equitable administration of law than he could obtain from magistrates of his own race. The horrid practice of suttee, or widow-burning, has been totally suppressed; the confederation of Thugs, or Stranglers, which extended throughout all Central India, has been broken up, and the Dacoits, or robber bands, which are still in existence along the Ganges, and in the hilly country at the foot of the Himalayas, are gradually becoming extinct. With few exceptions, order and security reign throughout the whole of India, and I doubt whether, on the whole, there has been less moral degradation and physical suffering at any time since the power of the Mogul Emperors began to decline.

My visit to India occupied only two months, and consequently some of my conclusions may be too hastily drawn. I have never made a more interesting, or instructive journey or visited a country better worthy of thorough and conscientious study. The historical problem which it presents is yet distant from its solution, and it is one which no member of the AngloSaxon race can contemplate with indifference.

CHAPTER XIII.

VOYAGE UP THE COAST OF CHINA.

THE steam-ship Pekin carried me from Calcutta to Hong Kong, nothing of importance occurring during our voyage. On arriving at Hong Kong, one of my fellow passengers entered my name at the Club House, a part of which was fitted up as a hotel. The weather was cold, raw, and cloudy, and I spent the greater part of my time in-doors, reading the late files of European journals. The U. S. steam-frigate Susquehanna was lying in the harbour, ready to sail for Macao, and as I desired to visit Canton, I accepted Capt. Buchanan's invitation to cross in her to the former place, whence I could take the Canton steamer. She left Hong Kong on the morning of the 20th, and after a pleasant run of four hours anchored in Macao roads. I went ashore, expecting to proceed to Canton on the morrow; but no one knows what a day may bring forth. Upon calling on the U. S. Commissioner, the Hon. Humphrey Marshall, to whom I had letters, he generously offered to attach me to the Embassy, that I might be able to accompany him to the seat of war in the North. So rare an opportunity of seeing the most interesting portion of China during a remarkable crisis in

the history of the_empire was not to be neglected; and on the following morning I again found myself on board the Susquehanna, listening to the thunders of the salute which welcomed the Commissioner.

The handsome stern-cabin of the Susquehanna was appropriated to the use of the Commissioner and his suite, consisting of Dr. Peter Parker, Secretary of Legation, Mr. O. H. Perry, Private Secretary, and myself.

We left Macao about nine o'clock on the morning of the 21st of March, and stood outward to sea, past the Lemma Island. The day was warm and calm, and the barren Chinese coast was unobscured by cloud or vapour. It is a bold rugged shore, indented with small bays and estuaries, and bounded by a fringe of lofty island-rocks, which are for the most part uninhabitable. In its general features, it resembles the coast of California, but is in reality more sterile, though hardly more so in appearance. Towards evening we saw the promontory called Breaker Point in the distance, and during the night we passed within half-a-mile of the Lamock Islands. The next morning was dull and overcast. We were already within the Straits of Fu-kien, or the Formosa Channel, as it is now called, and had a strong head-wind. During the day we had occasional glimpses of the islands and promontories of the coast, on our left, but too dark and indistinct to be satisfactory. About noon, we passed the headland of Quemoy, north of the Bay of Amoy, which is one of the five ports opened to foreigners by the English war. Its commerce, however, is small, nearly all the foreign trade being concentrated at Canton and Shanghai.

On Monday afternoon thirteen shipwrecked Japanese sailors, who, having been picked up at sea and taken into Francisco, were sent to China by order of the United States' Government, and placed on board the Susquehanna, were summoned in a body upon the quarter-deck to pay their respects to the "big mandarin," as they termed Col. Marshall. They made a very profound inclination of the head, removing their caps at the same time. Dr. Parker addressed them in Chinese, which they did not understand when spoken; but as the Chinese characters are known to the Japanese (the same character signifying the same word in both languages), he was enabled to communicate with them. They appeared cheerful and in good condition. They were nearly all dressed in sailor costume, with clothes which the officers and men had given them. It was curious to note the variety of feature, form, and expression among these men, all of whom belonged to the same class. There was one with an unusually broad face and dark complexion, who corresponded to Golownin's description of the Kurile inhabitants of the northern portion of the empire. They wore their hair short upon the crown and front of the head, but hanging loose and long at the back and sides, which Dr. Parker declared to have been the